


Finding

by NeverAndAlways



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Childbirth, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Nux Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, War Boy Culture, War Boys Showing Affection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAndAlways/pseuds/NeverAndAlways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Slit goes missing, and nothing goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sunlight beats down on the Citadel. It's quiet. Everyone, from Furiosa to the War Pups, is doing what they can to escape the midday heat. Some people are still busy, of course: The Dag is always tending her gardens, and no doubt Coma is cobbling together some new instrument. But not Nux. He's in his hammock, enjoying a well-earned nap. He's practically got the place to himself - aside from a few other War Boys, the cavern is deserted. Everyone else is on buzzard patrol. It's absolutely shine.

Nux sways in his hammock, comfortably half-conscious, and listens to the quiet. It's nice, but...he wishes he could be out there, too. He misses patrol, desert wind in your face, roaring engines, the smell of gasoline. The gates of Valhalla might be closed to him now, but he's still a War Boy. Driving is in his bones. He misses his car. And there's no way Slit's taking care of her; not **proper** care. Slit's a lancer, not a driver. Lancers don't know their cars like drivers do. He's probably let her get all dirty and rusty, and that left front wheel will get loose again...just the thought makes him uncomfortable. But as long as he's lugging this pup around, he's grounded. His itchy fingers will have to wait. He's starting to understand why some War Boys are so grudging when their names come up: having a pup is BORING. But they lost so, so many boys around Immortan Joe's death...they have to rebuild.

His arms are crossed over his chest; one hand fidgets, tracing his newest scars - the remains of Larry and Barry. Furiosa and the Sisters brought with them knowledge far beyond what the Organic could do. Although they didn't know everything: he remembers the first time Capable went down to the pup den and saw a group of Bearers with their round bellies, waiting for their pups to come. His hand wanders down to his own belly. It's big enough now that his V8 tattoo is warped. Won't be long now until he's down in the pup den himself. That's a nice thought...Nux drifts off to sleep with a smile.

\--

He's awakened some time later by a sound he can't hear. He feels it, deep in his chest, and jolts him upright. It's a sound he's known since pup-hood. The drums! And it can only mean one thing. He strains his ears listening, and his heart leaps when he hears it: the growl of an engine. The cavern comes to life in an instant, bare feet hitting the stone floor. He swings his legs out of the hammock to join them. No War Boy would miss the chance to greet a returning patrol. A pack of pups joins them as they run, clamoring for attention. Some boys hoist pups into their arms or onto their shoulders. But Nux is impatient; he ducks into a corridor. He knows shortcuts.

The first of the cars have already arrived when they reach the vehicle bay. Many more are still coming, though, and the drivers and lancers from the first lot are milling about, filling the room with raucous sound. Nux drinks it all in as he scans the crowd. There's Ferrous and his lancer, Gear, Weld reuniting with his pups, Cyan and Russ and a few others, but where-? He squints. Ah, there they are. A last, straggling line of cars is pulling into the bay, and there at the end is the reason he's here: his car, with Slit at the wheel. The car's not (quite) as rusty as he imagined, thank the gods. Nux weaves through the crowd - harder to do now, with this belly leading the way - and by the time Slit climbs out of the car, he's there.

"Slit!" he pushes past a group of drivers, over the front bumper, and all but tackles his lancer to the ground.

The reaction isn't quite what he expected. In less than a second, Nux finds himself pinned against the hood with a knife at his throat. "Oi! It's **me**!" he yelps. Another second and the knife is gone. He stands up and rubs at his throat. That was close. Slit re-sheaths the knife with one hand and cuffs his driver upside the head with the other. "Missed you, too." breathes Nux.

"Thought you was someone else."

Obviously. Nux runs his fingers over the hood. It's been too long. She doesn't look too bad, but - "Slit, what the fuck did you do?!" there's a scratch running the length of the bumper. A **deep** scratch. Slit looks it up and down with his good eye.

"Buzzards did that." he shrugs. Nux slaps his arm; he glares. "What??"

"I said be careful!"

"Since when d'you care so much?" Slit gestures at Nux's midsection. "That pup's makin' you go soft." Nux scoffs and kneels to look at the scratch. "Just leave it, Nuts, you ain't even s'posed to be in here. Go back to the caverns. I'll be there." with a last lingering look at his car, Nux finally shuffles away.

\--

He doesn't even know he's fallen asleep until he wakes up to Slit's presence behind him. The lancer has slotted himself in beside Nux, trying as always to make it look like a coincidence. He opens his eye.

"Hey."

"Hey." Nux turns as much as his belly will allow him. Slit chuckles.

"You're huge."

"I know. 'm sick of it."

"Thought you'd be in the pup den by the time patrol got back."

"Is that why you pulled a knife?"

"Jus' don't like bein' sneaked up on."

"Or you didn't want me to see that scratch." he manages to angle himself so that they're face-to-face; they stay like that for several moments. "The buzzards didn't do that, did they?"

Slit scowls. "You calling me a liar?"

"I'm calling you a rust driver."

"You didn't even see me drive!"

"I don't have to!"

The lancer grumbles. "You talk too much."

"You love it." Nux smirks. "Anyway, you're gonna be here when this pup comes. Like it or not."

"Whatever."

"Promise." Nux's smirk vanishes for a moment, replaced by a look so intensely earnest that Slit is momentarily taken aback. Then the lancer rolls his eyes.

"Sure. I promise." in a rare display of affection, Slit brushes a kiss to the driver's scarred lips. "Go back to sleep, Nuts." Nux's smirk widens into a cheeky grin. He rests his head on Slit's chest and is asleep soon after.

\--

The patrol sets out again a few days later. And Nux is - disappointingly - still pregnant. The quiet of the empty Citadel is no longer relaxing. It's maddening. He wanders the halls aimlessly, from the spires to the caverns and back. It's just like when Larry and Barry were around: no one lets him do anything worth doing. They tell him to go rest, or just go away. Even the Dag, who's never without her horde of students, won't let him help. He's just as capable as any of those pups! And isn't gardening just digging in the dirt, anyway?

On the third day of patrol, Nux's wanderings take him Below. War boys don't often come down here. In the Old Days, they were expressly forbidden. They can technically go where they please now, but most still leave it alone. Old habits die hard. There's not much to see, actually; just boxes and crates and such. But that doesn't stop him from exploring.

And he quickly discovers why the Immortan kept it to himself. The place is a treasure trove! Boxes and boxes of car parts, frames, steering wheels, hubcaps, everything you can imagine. Nux feels like a pup seeing his first car. He goes through boxes, pries open crates, opens storage closets - until he comes to one that isn't a closet at all. The door opens slowly, screeching like an old brake pad, and he barely has time to take in all the shine in the room before he realizes who it belongs to. The bed in the middle is occupied by none other than the Coma-Doof Warrior himself. His head snaps up at the sound of the door. "What?" he growls. Sharp teeth glint in the light.

"Nothing. Sorry. Got lost. Sorry." the faster Nux can get away from here, the better. But Coma holds up a slender hand. He freezes.

"Hold up." Coma beckons. Nux does as he's told. All War boys hold a healthy respect for Coma, even bordering on fear: he's the oldest person in the Citadel, now that the Immortan's dead. The musician angles his head, birdlike, listening. "Nux." he says at last, like a period on a sentence.

"Yes...?"

"Thought so. You walk too loud." he turns his attention back to his guitar, content that the mystery's been solved.

Plink.

Twang.

Plunk.

Long fingers pluck at the strings. He seems to have forgotten Nux is there. But Nux isn't about to leave unless he's dismissed; he stands by the bed, watching Coma tune his guitar string by string. Eventually Coma stops in mid-pluck. "D'you need something, or are you just gonna stare?"

"...Um...stare. I guess."

Smiling is something Coma does rarely, and for good reason: he looks like a shark. He laughs - or maybe it was a cough. "I like your honesty, War boy. Have a seat."

So he does. Coma tunes the last few strings. Then, seemingly satisfied, he lays back and begins to play. The tune starts out simple before finding its feet and becoming something more, something peaceful and unsettling and a little sad all at once. It's...nice. Nux looks around the room. There are instruments all over the walls and even hanging from the ceiling on ropes. He can't name a single one.

"This your first?"

Nux startles. "My first what?"

If Coma had eyes, he'd be rolling them. "Pup. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

"Yes. It's...it's my first one."

"Mm. With your lancer?"

"Yeh."

There's that laugh again. It's softer this time, more of a wheeze. "Well, good luck to you." the tune picks up where it left off. Nux listens for a few bars.

"I think the pup likes that song." he muses.

"Does it?" Coma's barely paying attention.

"He's moving a lot."

"Hmm. That's good."

The tune meanders along into something a bit more cheerful. The pup stops moving, and Nux leans back on his elbows.

"D'you have any...?"

"Any what?"

"Pups. Have you ever-?"

This time Coma laughs in earnest. It sounds like he's choking. "Me? Are you kidding??" he cackles. "I'm not built like that. And even if I was, who'd have me? I'm not exactly in my prime anymore." he sits back, adjusts his blindfold. "Nah, I'll stick to my instruments. They don't talk back...." he plucks a string; it makes a discordant TWANGG, and he smirks. "usually." it's not that funny, but Nux smiles anyway; he still can't believe he's talking to the Coma-Doof Warrior. Coma plays a scale from one end to the other, then starts in on a new tune. "So. What brings you down Below, anyway?" he asks. "Too quiet upstairs?"

"It's **boring**. No one lets me do anything 'cause of the pup."

"So you decided to go snooping around."

"...Yeah."

"Well, a word to the wise: it's usually polite to knock. You caught me in a good mood this time, but you won't always be so lucky." he pauses as though struck by a sudden idea. "And I think you'd better get back to civilization. Circus is comin' to town."

Nux frowns. "I don't hear-"

Coma holds up one long finger. And a few seconds later, there they are: the drums, thumping in his ribs like a second heartbeat. Another toothy smile spreads across the guitarist's face. "Get outta here, War boy." he chuckles like a rusty hinge.

Nux doesn't have to be told twice.

\--

Something's different. There's usually more excitement about a returning patrol, but Nux passes only a few other War boys in the halls. One of them is Flint, a Bearer who's almost as far along as Nux himself. He looks up from his perch at a window.

"Nux? Where you going?"

"The patrol's back. Don't you hear the drums?"

Flint listens a moment. "Yeah, but...they're s'posed to be gone two more days."

"Well they're back now, aren't they? C'mon!"

Nux all but drags Flint to the vehicle bay. The moment they arrive, though, it's obvious that something's wrong. At least a hundred cars left on patrol; only eighty are parked in the bay. Their drivers and lancers are standing around, and it's quiet. He catches the arm of a passing lancer.

"Bearers don't belong in th' vehicle bay." the lancer glares down at Nux and Flint's bellies.

Flint ignores this comment. "What's going on?" he gestures broadly toward the parked rigs. "What happened to the cars?"

"What, you don't know?" the lancer sneers. "Buzzards got 'em. Out in the Wastes. All of 'em gone to Valhalla." he pushes past the two drivers and is gone.

Buzzards.

Gone to Valhalla.

 

Slit.

 

His legs are moving on their own, carrying him down the row of empty spaces. Vaughn's, Kai's, Spark's, Vox and Russ and Weld...and Nux. His car is gone. He looks around. Flint and a few other drivers are looking at him.

"'M sorry, Nux." says Flint.

Sorry?? There's no 'sorry', Slit's not gone. He can't be. There's no way. He might be a rust driver and as friendly as a rock on a good day, but he's Slit. They go to Valhalla together, or not at all. He's out there somewhere. Nux turns and makes a mad dash for the nearest rig, a sleek pursuit vehicle. Hauling himself into the driver's seat takes some doing, but he makes it - only to nearly be yanked back out. The car's owner is enormous, at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds bigger than Nux, and bristling with indignant rage.

"'The hell d'you think you're doing?" the driver snarls up at him. One huge fist is clamped around Nux's pant leg; Nux shakes him off.

"Slit's still out there. I'm going after him." he pulls himself the rest of the way into the car, slamming the door just as the driver climbs up after him.

"Not in my car you're not!" Enormous Driver rattles the door handle.

Nux didn't hear that. He brings the engine roaring and sputtering to life, and is just putting his boot on the accelerator when he feels cold metal pressed against his skull. He stops. He turns. The business end of a large gun is being held to his temple; the trigger end is in the hand of the enormous driver. "Get out. Of my. Car." his voice is low and dangerous. Nux does as he's told, very slowly. You don't argue with a gun.

When he climbs down, the whole vehicle bay is staring at him. Flint doesn't meet his gaze. Enormous Driver holsters his gun but still stands pointedly between Nux and the car. "Your lancer's dead," he sniffs. "accept it."

"Go back to the pup den." says someone else. "You and your friend."

Nux doesn't even wait for Flint. He slinks out of the bay with his eyes downcast, and doesn't look up again until he reaches the caverns.


	2. Chapter 2

Nux the failure. Nux the screw-up. He'll never do War again, now, or patrol. He and Slit are a matched set; you can't have one without the other. Which makes him...pretty much nothing.

Nux lays awake in his hammock. War boys snore all around him, and moonlight streams cool and silver through a window. His pup wriggles and kicks inside him. If he were anyone else he might cry, but War boys don't cry. Only pups do that. Instead he shuts his eyes tight and tries, for the hundredth time, to will himself to sleep. Feel the hammock swaying, the night breeze, the cool air...it doesn't work. Too many thoughts in his head. He throws an arm over his face, tries to get comfortable, but they keep coming. What if today was his last time behind the wheel? His days of driving are over if Slit is really gone. Drivers and lancers are together from pup-hood. They live and train and fight side-by-side, they're even supposed to go to Valhalla together. They're a team. He'll never have another; you can't just put two War boys together and have it work. So where does this leave him?

He sits up. Old Zeke lost his driver on their first raid together and has been working in the repair bay ever since; Tal is there too, now that Morsov's gone to Valhalla. Is that what's going to happen to him?

That doesn't sound so bad, he thinks at first. He might not be behind the wheel, but at least he'll be with the cars. He'll get to work on engines, maybe even help with mods. He'll be useful. And he can't screw up as easily.

But on the other hand...he's one of the fastest pursuit drivers around. He has a reputation. Does he really want to spend the rest of his days as a mechanic? Never really driving, never leaving the Citadel, only seeing cars when they're dead or broken? That's not much to look forward to. Certainly not much of a life. But he doesn't have a choice.

Does he?

Nux looks around the cavern. All the othe War boys are sound asleep, and it's late enough that no one else will be up either. If he can just make it to the vehicle bay...he gets out of his hammock and slowly, gingerly climbs down to the ground. Nothing moves. So far so good. Off he goes, padding out into the corridor. It's darker here; he keeps one hand on the wall for a while to get his bearings. The cool stone is refreshing under his palm.

From one spire to another, across bridges, down and down. Just as he thought, not a soul is awake. It won't take long to reach the vehicle bay. he darts through a tunnel (another shortcut of his), across a rickety suspension bridge, through an empty watchtower-

"Who goes there?"

-or not so empty. He stops in his tracks. One hand instinctively covers his belly. Good job being stealthy, Nux.

"Turn around. Slowly. Come out where we can see you."

He obeys, putting his hands up to show he's not a threat. The voice turns out to be Toast the Knowing, brandishing a mean-looking pistol in one hand and a lantern in the other. A shadow moves into the circle of lamplight: Capable. A star chart lays at their feet. She motions to Toast, who lowers her gun reluctantly. 

"Nux, what are you doing up?" says Capable gently.

Nux looks from the gun to Capable and back, and slowly lowers his hands. "...Walking." he says at last. It's broadly true.

"Walking where?" there's a smile in her voice.

"Nowhere. Just walking. Pup won't settle down." which is also true. Toast and Capable exchange dubious glances, so he throws in a smile for good measure. "Sorry to bother you. Just, uh...go back to your star-watching." he edges back toward the door, then through the door. Then he runs. It turns into a fast waddle before long, then a shuffle, but he keeps going as long as he can. He's been seen. At least it was only the Sisters, but what if they tell? He has to get out fast.

The vehicle bay is dimly lit, but he knows what he's doing. He goes straight to the pursuit cars. There's a driver asleep in the front seat of one; he'll probably make a scene, but that can't be helped. Nux chooses a sleek black car and climbs in (but not before silencing it with a rag in the exhaust pipe). For a moment he has to just sit and savor it. Even though it's an unfamiliar car, and reaching the steering wheel is awkward because of his belly, just the feeling of being a driver again is chrome. He runs his hands over the steering wheel, the dashboard, the gearshift, and whispers a greeting. Then he starts the ignition; the car shudders alive and the thrum of the engine in his bones is something to savor, too. But there's no time. Instead he puts it in gear, puts his foot to the pedal, and races out of the bay.

Suddenly he's bathed in moonlight. The desert stretches out under the stars, white sand as far as he can see. It's so exhilirating that he forgets himself, letting out a wild yell and gunning the engine as fast as it'll go. He's a pup again, driving for the first time, obeying no one but himself. But then he leaps over an unexpected dune and lands on the other side with an explosion of sand and an uncomfortable jolt. That brings him back to Earth very quickly. He sits and idles, apologizing quietly to the pup, until he's got his wits about him again. Then he drives on.

\--

Nux drives until he can no longer see the Citadel behind him. There isn't much shelter out here in the Wastes, so he settles for parking behind a tallish dune. The stars are going out; dawn can't be far away. He can get a little rest, at least. After clambering into the back seat (and winding himself in the process), he stretches out as much as he's able and shuts his eyes.

Tap.

Tap-tap.

Ugh. Damn birds. Nux puts an arm over his eyes.

Tap-tap-tap.

Tap-tap-tap.

"Get lost!" he takes a swing at the back window. But instead of rattling wings he hears...laughter? He sits up - and nearly falls off the seat. "Capable??"

The redhead is sitting on the back lancer's perch, cheerful as anything. Damn her. She waves to him and hops down as he opens the door.

"Capable, what're you-how long--have you been there the whole time??" he sputters.

"Yeah."

"You followed me?!"

"Yeah."

"...why?"

She smirks, as though riding the back of a speeding pusuit car is something she does every day. "You didn't think I'd let you do this alone, did you?"

"You don't even know what I'm doing." Nux sits down again in the back seat. His back is killing him.

"Looking for your lancer?" Capable offers. Her smirk widens at his look of astonishment.

"How did you-?"

"Word gets around. And I know you, Nux. I know how loyal you are to him. And don't worry- Toast didn't raise the alarm. Our friend in the vehicle bay may have done that for her. May I?" She squeezes in next to Nux, as much as the cramped space and his burgeoning belly will allow. "I was tempted to stop you myself, though. In all likelihood, Slit **is** gone; you don't last long out here without resources. And **you**  are way too pregnant to be doing anything but resting."

Nux groans. She's on his case too, Glory be! "So what you gonna do? Turn the rig around and take me back to the Citadel?"

"No." she laughs gently. "I'm going to help you. If you'll have me, that is."

"Yer the one who followed me out here; don't think I got a choice." he tries to blow it off, although he can feel his treacherous ears turning red.

"Well then, I guess I'm staying." she looks around at the horizon. All but the brightest stars have gone out. "But first, let's get some sleep. We'll start at sunrise."

So Nux scoots back on the seat to make room, and Capable nestles up against him with her head on his shoulder (desert nights are cold). They're asleep in no time.


	3. Chapter 3

Their search begins at dawn.

Nux is the first to wake; he untangles himself gently from Capable, lays her out on the seat with a spare blanket, and climbs into the front seat. Then he just looks back at her for a second. She's so beautiful. Long, wavy red hair in an untidy braid against pale skin; arms and legs and hands and feet that aren't afraid of work and have seen their fair share of it. If he didn't have Slit, well...he turns around, puts the car into gear and starts it, scaring away a few lizards that were basking on the hood. The pup wakes too, with a kick that makes him see stars. He takes a moment to caress and speak to it. "'Morning, pup. You ready for some driving?" a smile crosses his scarred lips. "'Course you are, you're my pup. You gotta promise me, though: don't come out 'till we're back home. Okay?" the pup goes still; he takes that as agreement. "Okay. Le's go." he puts his foot to the pedal and steers the rig out from behind the dune. She drives wonderfully! Almost better than his own car, blasphemous as that may be. He pulls out into the open, morning sun bright on his face, and drives.

\--

It's easy to forget just how huge the Wastes are. For Nux, who hasn't left the Citadel since he conceived, they seem endless. Featureless sand rolls away under his wheels, each mile just like the last. Capable wakes after an hour or two; her presence is a welcome break from the monotony. She sits in the passenger seat and watches the desert go by, pondering one thing or another. Eventually she speaks.

"Nux, can I ask you something?"

He raises his eyebrows to show that he heard, but doesn't take his gaze off the road.

"Can all War boys have pups?"

Now he turns to look at her, with more disbelief than anything. "What, you don't know?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

Point taken. Nux takes a deep breath. "'Bout half of us can. Bearers, like me. Th' rest are Sires. Usually Bearers just get put together with their lancers, after their first season."

"Like you and Slit?"

"Like me an' Slit."

"What happens in your first season?"

Nux lets the car coast over a shallow dune. "Most of us get paired with a really strong sire our first time, so our pups'll be healthy. Like Morsov. First-timers always got put with him."

"Did you?"

"Yeh."

Capable pauses. "I thought you said this pup was your first."

"...It is. Sort of." one hand goes to his belly. "My first time was right after Larry an' Barry showed up, so the pup didn't take. Second one almost did; died after four months."

"Oh." another pause. "Nux, I'm sorry-"

"Nah, 's okay. This one's strong enough to stick around." he flashes a lopsided smile, but his heart's not in it. Something's caught his attention on the horizon.

"What's that?"

"Dunno." he presses the accelerator, and they're off.

\--

The thing in question turns out to be a car. It's burnt and mangled and mostly upside-down, but Nux seems to recognize it; he circles the charred wreckage with something close to reverence, even sifts through it a little. When his search uncovers a belt, he sits back with it in his hands and at first Capable thinks he's crying. But War boys don't cry.

At last he returns to the car. He stares into the middle distance, rubbing his belly, until Capable touches his arm. Then he jumps.

"Was that him?" she asks gently. He shakes his head.

"Weld." he says. "He's got four pups." then, without another word, he starts the car and drives on.

\--

They find several more cars that day, and many more bodies. But none of the cars are Nux's, and none of the bodies are Slit. It's both a relief and a disappointment. By the time they stop for the night, Nux has tallied the names of at least five War boys: Weld, Kai, Rome, Rush, and Blade. All of them his agemates, and two of them Bearers like himself. He salvages their belt buckles from the wreckage and stows them in the glovebox.

He's restless that night. Capable watches him pace around the car for at least an hour before it starts to drive her crazy. But even when he finally retreats inside, he keeps moving: one boot taps an endless rhythm on the floor, the back of the driver's seat, anything.

"Nux...!"

"Sorry."

Capable props herself up on one elbow and glares at the War boy. She just wants to sleep, is that so much to ask? "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." she glares. No one can stand up to that for long; she hears Nux sigh in the darkness. "...Slit."

Figures. "What about him?"

"I dunno. I wanna find him, but I don't. 'Cause if he's gone to Valhalla, then...I hafta go with 'im."

"Why?"

She can almost hear his confusion. She might as well have asked why the sky was blue. "'Cause that's the way it is. Drivers and lancers go together, or not at all."

"That's just a slogan." Capable stifles a yawn. "Besides, what about the pup?"

A pause. "That's why I don't wanna find him."

"Look, Nux...if we do find him, alive or otherwise, we'll deal with it then. Right now, I just want to get some sleep. You should do the same." then she stops any further words by laying her head on his shoulder. He reacts almost instinctively by leaning back against her. That's one surprising thing about War boys: they're very demonstrative when it comes to affection. She can feel him start to relax, and she does the same. The don't move again until dawn.

\--

"Nux??"

Capable moves as fast as the loose sand and her too-large boots will let her. They're investigating the remains of a Buzzard car; she turned away for a moment, and when she looked back he was on the ground. He struggles to pick himself up as she approaches.

"'M fine, 'm fine..."

"What happened?" she helps him up with a hand under his arm. He's breathing like he just ran a mile.

"Stood up too fast. 'M fine." it's a pretty transparent lie, but she knows she won't get anything better out of him. She lets him go and watches him stagger back toward their car. He points to the horizon. "Someone's comin' after us...gotta move fast." All she sees is a cloud of dust, and it's so far away it could be almost anything. But Nux seems so agitated, she's not going to question it. She climbs in, and off they go.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Now it's a race against time. There's one more wreck but at this speed, it's several hours' drive. That dust cloud - who or whatever it is - might reach them before then. But Nux isn't about to let that happen. He drives so fast that Capable's hair almost comes undone. She's never seen him this agitated; since that fall, he acts like he's running from something. Every so often his hands tighten around the steering wheel, and his breathing quickens...they'd better reach the wreck in time. 

\--

Nux looks over his shoulder for the umpteenth time, and swears.

"Is it still there?"

"'Course it's still there. Hang on." he yanks on the gearshift, then the steering wheel, taking them down into a shallow canyon. He mumbles an apology as the car bounces and jolts over piles of scree.

"Nux-"

"I know what I'm doing. They won't get us in here."

'They' might very well be a dust storm, thinks Capable, but doesn't say it. You don't argue with someone that pregnant. She just watches as they careen through the rocks, throwing up dust and gravel. It's easy to see how he earned his reputation as a pursuit driver; if you didn't know otherwise, you'd think he'd been working with this car for years. He drives as though the car is just an extension of his body, over rubble and around sharp outcrops.

Suddenly a motorcycle lands behind them, then three more. Nux swears again. 'They' might not find them in here, but the buzzards will. This is their home turf. The bikes spread out behind them like wolves herding their prey. Their riders are hunched over the handlebars, faces obscured. An opening appears on the left; one rider moves to cut them off.

"Schlanger." Nux hisses. "Watch this." he jams his foot down on the gas, sending them hurtling up over a crest. It's a good idea - the bikes break off their pursuit almost immediately. But as soon as they hit the ground on the other side, they see why. The canyon floor is littered with their previous catches. Twisted and burnt and rusted out, they've become their own obstacle course, and Nux has to jerk on the steering wheel to avoid them. Up, down, sideways; for almost a mile he twists and turns around broken metal.

Then suddenly, there's no more. They burst out of the obstacle course and back onto flat sand. Nux looks around wildly. "Did we lose 'em? I think we lost 'em!" he cheers. But there's something on the ground just ahead-

"Nux!!" Capable lunges across, grabbing the steering wheel out of the War boy's hands and wrenching it to the side. It breaks off the column, the car turns sharply - and seconds later the ground opens up to reveal a deep, spike-lined pit, just inches from the rear bumper. Without its steering wheel the car just keeps barreling along, straight toward the canyon wall. Capable grabs Nux's arm and rattles the door handle, but it's stuck tight. All they can do is hang on as the rocks rush up to meet them.

\--

She's upright when she comes to, thank the gods...bloody, but whole. Can't say the same for the car, though; judging by the crumpled hood and billowing black smoke, it's gone to its own Valhalla. Or wherever cars go. Anyway, Nux won't be too happy about-

Nux. Oh gods. Where-?

Capable looks around. The War boy is slumped over the steering column, bleeding from a gash on his shoulder. Fear rises in her throat. But before she can get to him, a movement outside catches her eye: a craggy-faced buzzard leers down at them from the canyon rim. Another joins him, then two more. They begin to climb down. Capable blindly feels around in the wreckage behind her for something, anything, to hit with. Her fingers close around something heavy and solid; she smiles grimly as the buzzards approach. "That's right," she whispers. "come on down. Easy prey- a woman and a pregnant War boy. Come and get us."

The first buzzard lands with a THUMP on what's left of the hood. For a split second they stare each other down. Then she swings. His look of surprise before the exhaust pipe hits is very satisfying. A hit across the collarbone and another upside the jaw, and down he goes. The next buzzard climbs right up over his comrade's bloodied form as it slithers to the ground, brandishing a serrated knife. Blade and pipe collide with a clang and a screech. They struggle for a moment before she flicks the knife down and away, but he lunges back just as quickly and she can barely deflect it. Only when he steps forward to lunge again can she strike, hitting him across the calf and then whacking the knife out of his hand. Another buzzard is coming in through the window; she spins around and punches him. Maybe there's just the one, maybe more, but Capable keeps swinging until there's nothing left to swing at.

Once there's nothing moving in the car but her, she goes straight for Nux. First a hand at his throat to check for a pulse (running like clockwork), then a hand on his belly. That's as far as she gets; Nux quite literally comes roaring back to life, rearing up like some scrawny avenging angel.

"Where are they-where'd they-"

"Nux. Nux, relax, it's me!" Capable grabs his wrist. He looks around wildly for a few seconds until his eyes focus.

"Capable...? What happened?"

She points. He follows her gaze to the bloodied exhaust pipe, the fallen buzzards. A lopsided smile spreads across his face.

"Chrome."

\--

Nux and Capable pick their way slowly across the dunes. The only upside of that chase was that it got them closer to the wreck - and got them a better look at it. Even at this distance, Nux recognizes the sleek silhouette of his car. Part of him wants to run to it, take it apart piece by piece until he finds his lancer. The rest of him wants to run the other way. That's not like you, Nux, running from a challenge. Having this pup has made him feel a lot of strange things, though. Certainly more discomfort than he would have liked...his belly's been hard and tight and painful all day. Calm down, pup.

Many, many dunes later, there she is. They find the tire tracks first, zigzagging through the sand, and the remains of several mean-looking spears. Capable picks one up. "Buzzards?" she asks, holding it out to Nux. Of course it's buzzards. He nods distractedly; he can't seem to catch his breath. It's Larry and Barry all over again. Doggedly he continues on to the car. She's in bad shape. Of course she is, that's what happens when you run into buzzards, but he wasn't expecting **this** : she's crumpled like tin. He runs a hand over the sun-warmed metal and feels a sharp pang of sadness. Even his bobblehead bird - that ugly little thing Slit always gives him grief for - is in pieces. Poor thing. His gaze travels over the wreckage. It's typical buzzard work: smashed windshield, missing tires, anything that's not dented and burned has been hacked off completely. There's the exhaust pipes down there, and part of the front lancer's perch...he aims a kick at the door. It falls with a much less impressive CLANG than it should. Behind it is the engine block, or part of it, shoved into the cabin by the impact that totaled it. He stoops with difficulty and starts brushing away the sand and debris. Nearby, Capable is doing the same.

The distributor comes off in his hand; the transmission is completely gone. They even cannibalized the engine, damn them! He and Capable work together to push-pull the hunk of metal out onto the sand. This winds him so thoroughly that he has to retreat for a minute to catch his breath while she keeps searching.

"Nux...?" Capable's voice is halting. Nux half-turns; she's still crouched by the car. Her face is unreadable.

"What?"

"You should see this."

He knows before he gets there what it's going to be. He wants to see it. He doesn't want to see it. He needs to.

A hand, half-buried, sticking out under the radiator. It's clay-dust white; the fingers are curled around a piece of belt stamped with the Immortan's emblem. His heart jumps into his throat. His hands dart out, pushing away the radiator, then pawing at the sand. "Slit? Slit!!If you're dead, I'm gonna kill you, I swear-" the hand leads to an arm, an elbow, a shoulder, a broken torso. It's pinned under the front seat, there's no way - Capable grabs one arm, Nux the other, and with one final heave they pull it free.

Ragged patchwork clothing. Bandages everywhere. A gas mask. Not Slit: a buzzard. It moves, coughs.

"What. Are you doing. In **our. Car."**  Nux snarls. The buzzard tries and fails to lift its head, and gurgles something unintelligable. "Where's Slit? What did you do to him?" Nux grabs the buzzard by the shoulders; its head lolls back. "Where is he??" he's got half a mind to shake him, but it's too late - a stuttering sigh comes from inside the gas mask, and the buzzard goes limp. The belt falls from its fingers. Nux drops the lifeless body onto the sand.

Is that it? It can't be. Maybe...maybe Slit is still in there. He turns and starts pawing through the rubble again, but Capable steps forward. "Nux, there's nothing in there but sand."

"No, he's gotta be here somewhere-" another pain interrupts him, and he slumps forward with a groan. Capable touches his shoulder; he rears up away from her and the car. "Leave me alone...!"

And she does. She watches as Nux shuffles away over the dunes, and doesn't make a move to stop him. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: semi-graphic description of birth in this chapter!

The sun is going down.

Capable tries to make use of the fading light; first she buries the dead buzzard in a shallow grave, a fair distance from the car. Then she tosses out what's left of the car's interior, spreads out the blanket they took from the pursuit car, and climbs inside. She's not going to go chasing after Nux. He needs time alone with his thoughts and besides, he can't have gone far. You can't hide out here.

Sunset turns the sky from hazy blue to gold, then red, then a deep, singed orange. Capable watches. And thinks. Toast was right; she should have stopped the War boy while she had the chance. But she felt sorry for him. And now they've crashed a stolen car and angered the buzzards, and have nothing to show for it. They can't even get back to the Citadel on their own. It would take weeks on foot, and without food or water...she squints into the distance behind her. There's no dust cloud now, but she can just make out a cluster of dark vehicle shapes. Maybe cars, maybe motorcycles. They're unlikely to be buzzards, at least: if you're too far away, buzzards won't actively pursue you because you're not worth the effort. So that leaves only War boys. Who **will** actively chase you down.

Maybe they'll get lucky and be buried by a sandstorm.

\--

Capable blinks awake; it's twilight. And there's something - someone - next to her. Nux. She turns. He's very still, breathing slowly, but his eyes are open and staring out the shattered window. She can almost feel the tension radiating off him. The spell breaks, though, when she says his name; he blinks a few times and looks down at her.

"What." his voice is flat.

"Are you alright?"

He looks away. "No." he swallows hard, takes a deep breath. "Hurts."

It takes her a moment to process the words. Her heart sinks. "Since when?"

"Dunno. All day. Worse since-" his voice takes on a ragged edge. "since earlier. There's still some time between them, but...it's not supposed to happen now. Not out here."

Capable has never heard fear from a War boy until now; it catches her a little off-guard. "Well," she says, trying to inject some calm into her own voice, "I don't think there's much of a choice. At least we've got shelter, though, and..." that's pretty much all they have, really. But it's better than being out in the open and hunted by buzzards, right? "and you're going to be alright." Nux is unconvinced; his hands coast nervously over his belly. She lays her own hand over them. "You're going to be alright." she repeats. "You and your pup." then, because she doesn't know what else to say: "Just try to get some sleep while you can. I'll be here." reassurance is something she can do, at least. She slips her hand into his and gives it a gentle squeeze. A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth, and he shifts his gaze back to the window. They've got a long night ahead of them.

\--

The moon is up when she wakes again. The desert is soft and gray and the dunes cast long shadows all around her. It's cold. She shivers, pulls her shawl closer around her shoulders, and leans into-

-the wall.

"Nux...?" she sits up. There's no sign of him. "Nux?" she calls again, louder. "War boy?" this is the worst possible time to wander off. Where-? A strangled sound that might be her name drifts in through the window; she jumps up and follows it.

And there's Nux, standing on unsteady legs, his upper half propped against the roof of the car. A bitten-off whine escapes him as she approaches.

"It's worse?"

He nods and waves her away. "I don't need help," he insists, or tries to. All his bravado collapses mid-sentence. Capable puts a hand to his back and finds he's shivering; she takes off her shawl and drapes it over him. He doesn't seem to notice. The War boy presses his forehead to the car and whispers, "'m scared.", like it's a confession of something awful.

"It's alright to be scared." says Capable. He shakes his head vehemently.

"No. To...to show fear is to show weakness."

Again with the slogans. War boys aren't very good at strong emotions. "To show fear means you're human." she corrects him. Another head shake. "At least slow down your breathing. You're going to pass out."

"I can't-" the words become muffled as he grits his teeth against a new contraction. The shivering intensifies and he sinks to his knees, shawl dropping from his shoulders, trying to both follow Capable's instruction and stay ahead of the pain. Vocalizing already; he's farther along than she thought. "This is wrong," he gasps once he can breathe again. "this shouldn't be happening. Not out here. I should be back at the Citadel. This isn't- 's not how it's supposed to go..." he sounds almost panic-stricken. Capable kneels beside him and picks up the shawl.

"Well, like it or not, it **is** happening, so we have to make the best of it-"

"No, you don't understand, I- no War boy has ever had their pup outside the Citadel before."

...Oh. Well, that explains a lot. What can you even say to something like this? "...I'm sorry." Nux says nothing and looks away, still breathing hard. Capable sits down on the sand. "So...what would happen if you were in the Citadel?"

Slowly, and with some help from Capable, the War boy turns around to sit with her. Even this simple action leaves him out of breath. It takes a minute or two before he can speak. "Some War boys keep working right up until their pup comes. Kerr always did. But when a driver's name comes up, they aren't even allowed in the vehicle bays after twenty weeks, so...I'd probably just be in the caverns." he draws a morose little circle in the sand as he talks. A beetle, disturbed by the motion, pops out of the ground and buzzes away.

"Even now?" Capable prods. "What about the pup den?"

"Well, yeah. I'd be there now, I guess...Slit prob'ly would have dragged me there. Say someone needs to keep an eye on me." he says with a wry smile. It doesn't last long, though, before he heaves a sigh and lets his head fall back. There's a dull clang as skull meets metal. "...I want this to be over."

"It will be." Capable drapes her shawl over herself. Seeing the War boy start to tense up again, she scrambles for something more to talk about. "Tell me about...tell me about Kerr." Nux looks quizzical. "Talking will keep your mind off of it."

Nux shifts uncomfortably. "Kerr is...he works in the repair bay. Always helps me an' Slit with the car. 's got three pups, I think. Two of 'em are twins; Xan and...Rex-" his breath hitches on the words. "Oh gods..." he digs the heels of his hands into his forehead. "Make it stop...!"

"Don't try to fight it, that just makes it worse." says Capable, but he's too far gone to hear her. Every muscle in his body is tense. There's nothing she can do, so she sits back and waits, listens as he keens, and tries not to think of the times that she and the other Sisters were in the very same position. Thank the gods, she never has to do that again.

...she just has to play midwife to a frightened War boy.

\--

It's been hours. The moon has gone down; seeing the wide blanket of stars makes Capable think fondly of her binoculars, sitting on some shelf in the Citadel. She and Nux have spent the night doing everything they can think of to keep his pain at bay. This labor has been a long one.

In the end Nux resorted to shuffling in slow circles around the wreck. His footprints have made a shallow trench, broken here and there by wider patches where he sits or crouches. Like right now: he's in mid-contraction, kneeling in the sand and propping his forearms against the car. The blanket from the pursuit car is draped around his waist, underneath the swell of his belly; his pants are hanging over the door. Capable stands nearby, watchful but not interfering. Any touch seems to put him on-edge.

The War boy growls deep in his chest, so low it seems to vibrate through the car. His hands curl into tight fists. "Cap...Capable..." he pants. She's at his side in an instant.

"What's wrong?"

"Pup..." is all he can say before the contraction peaks and he's swept away. He goes very still; there's a quiet grunt of effort. Capable counts up to ten before she hears him breathe again. "'s happening." he finishes lamely, as if it wasn't already apparent. She reaches for him, tries to turn him around, and gets swatted away. "I don't need help, jus' leave me!" he snarls. War boys: stubborn to the end. Once again she's left to watch as her friend struggles. He's deep inside his own mind now: nothing else matters. When the contraction ends he sinks back onto his heels, panting, to wait for the next round. His hands move absently, one tracing the lowest curve of his belly and the other adjusting the blanket. Then he rises back up, steadies himself on the car, and bears down again.

Push, breathe, rest, push, breathe, rest, again and again for more than an hour. The only thing that changes is his vocalizations, which become more pained and urgent with each contraction until, suddenly, a scream echoes off the dunes. It's a sharp sound, jarring in contrast to the groans and whines he's been making. His hands scrabble for purchase on the dusty metal as he instinctively widens his stance, angling his hips downward. Living around War boys, Capable is used to their frenetic energy, but this is different. Frantic. He pushes hard, but only for a moment until his breath hitches and he panics. He falls, rights himself, tries to scrabble backward away from the pain, and Capable has to lunge forward and seize his wrists to stop him. His breathing is fast and ragged; he screws his eyes shut. "I can't- I can't, it burns-"

"Yes you can." Capable keeps her voice level, but doesn't loosen her grip. "But panicking won't help, you have to breathe." he gives no indication that he heard her, so she shakes him lightly to get his attention. "Nux, stop it. Look at me." she shakes him again. His eyes fly open. "You have to breathe. Slow down." following her example, Nux manages one slow breath in and out before the pain returns. He almost chokes on the next lungful then, but Capable keeps his focus until instinct kicks in and he's doing it on his own. Then she lets go of him. Another, stronger instinct takes over. The War boy curls around his belly and pushes, digging his heels into the sand. A scream rises, crescendoes and fades and leaves him gasping for breath.

"Get him out," he whines. "it hurts..."

Capable shakes her head. "I can't do this for you, War boy." the blanket came undone in the chaos; a (reluctant) glance down tells her everything she needs to know. "He's halfway out already. Just keep pushing."

This seems to spur him on: his actions have more purpose to them when he bears down again. The pup's head emerges, and his hand flies down to cup it protectively. Another contraction, and it slowly rotates. His cries have a rough edge to them now as his voice begins to give out. Capable helps him up to kneel again, and he gathers his strength into one massive push that tears a shriek from his throat. And that's all it takes. Sudden movement, a rush of fluid, and he's clumsily lifting his pup to his chest.

Nux sinks down onto his heels. His expression is one that Capable can't quite place; not happiness, not quite fear, but an intense focus like he's searching for something (and maybe he is - children are affected by the Wastes as much as their parents). He turns the pup, runs his fingers over its back, neck, legs, and elongated skull. But everything's as it should be, it seems. Capable leans in and clears the pup's nose and mouth, and she and Nux both grin as it begins to wail. Nux, still catching his breath, lets out a shaky laugh. Unshed tears shine in his eyes.

"That's...that's my pup."

Capable can't help but laugh a little, too. "Yes it is."

"...Glory be."

\--

Almost no time has passed, it seems, before light creeps back into the sky. The sun rises on a sleeping Capable, curled up just inside the wreck, and Nux, exhausted but still awake. He's sitting with his back to the car and his legs tented, holding his pup in the crook of his arm.

"Glory be." he says for the umpteenth time. His voice is still rough. The pup, wrapped up tight in Capable's shawl, unfolds on tiny hand; he slips his finger into its palm and smiles as the tiny digits close around it. "Look at you...you're gonna be a chrome driver someday, pup." if they ever make it back to the Citadel, that is. The thought gives him pause for an uneasy moment...but only a moment. His brain is full of too many endorphins to really care.

The Citadel. Home. Nux lets his thoughts dwell on that for a while. "You're gonna love the Citadel." he murmurs. "It's so green now, with Furiosa an' the Sisters taking care of it. An' there's water. There's so much water." he brushes some sand off the pup's forehead, then rests his hand there. It's so soft, and so pink next to his own pale skin. "And you can meet the other War pups, and Flint and Cyan and..." he trails off. "Slit would've loved you, pup." his voice is barely a whisper. Maybe 'love' isn't the word, though; 'love' isn't really part of Slit's vocabulary, even when it comes to his driver. Dedication, maybe, or loyalty...anyway. He'd be just as mesmerized by the little one as Nux is. Nux shifts around to soak up the rising sun, still talking to his pup in an undertone. "Can't just keep calling you 'pup', though, can I? You need a name." but what to call you? In the fog of endorphins and sheer exhaustion, it takes him several moments to think of anything. There's Cal, Jet, West, Yale, Voss...he knew a driver named Chroma once...or there's Spark, or Beat, or Torque...none of them seem to fit. He stares down at his pup. The pup stares back. Gods, he can barely think. And those engines aren't helping matters.

...Wait. Engines? Nux looks up, scans the horizon, but there's nothing. He climbs to his feet (which takes much more effort than it should) to get a better look. Nothing from the North or West, so where...?

His answer comes over the dune in a burst of sand. A motorcycle, its engine throbbing, stops short just yards from the wreck. Another follows, and another, and four more, pulling up to form a growling half-circle of metal and wheels and chrome. Their riders, hooded and goggled and clad in brown and gray, each pull a gun from their saddlebags. Nux's eyes dart across the line. His free hand is already fumbling at his waist for a weapon - a gun, a knife, anything - but for once in his life he's unarmed.

"Hands up." one of the riders barks. On reflex he ducks down to grab the dagger from Capable's belt, but she's awake already; her hand closes like a trap around his wrist. A bullet pings off the roof above them, and they both flinch.

"What's going on??" she hisses through the engine noise. He claps a hand over her mouth. Another warning shot whistles overhead.

"They found us." Nux whispers. For a split second, Capable's eyes are almost accusing.

"Get up where we can see you." a rider commands. Nux and Capable don't move a muscle. The pup wriggles and scrunches up its face, threatening to cry, and Nux silently wills it not to. "If you like, I could just kill you now..." the rider says almost pleasantly. A gun cocks, illustrating their point very clearly. "...but I'd much rather hear what you're doing in our territory first." a pause. "You have five seconds."

Capable and Nux exchange glances, hardly daring to breathe.

"Five."

Are these buzzards? Buzzards don't usually bother talking to you, though, they just shoot and take what they want-

"Four."

They're outnumbered and basically unarmed, they don't stand a chance. There's no running; Nux can barely stand and anyway, where would they run to-

" **Three**."

They could surrender, but who's to say they won't be killed anyway-

" **Two**."

Capable reaches for her dagger. If they're going to die, they're going to go out fighting-

" **ONE**."

An earsplitting BANG tears a hole in the side of the car. Their ears ring; the pup shrieks. And Capable, it seems, has had enough. She pushes Nux aside and gets to her feet, her eyes steely but her hands raised, nonthreatening. All seven guns cock menacingly, barrels trained on her. She stares them down.

"We are unarmed." her voice is loud and strong, without a trace of fear. "We came from the Citadel. I am Capable; one of the Sisters, friend to Imperator Furiosa."

The riders hesitate. A whisper of 'Furiosa' runs through the group, and 'Citadel'. "Are there others?" asks one.

"No. We came alone."

More whispering. One rider - shorter than the others, wearing a bandana over their mouth and nose - dismounts and approaches. Their gun hangs at their side like a warning. Slowly, cautiously, they circle around the wreckage to look Capable up and down. Nux is also scrutinized. At length the rider steps back and removes their goggles, and both are surprised to see a woman's face looking back at them. She nods to her companions.

"Put your guns away. She's telling the truth."

"And the other one?"

"Just another War boy."

This gets Nux's attention immediately. "Another?" he scrambles to his feet, ignoring the pain the action causes. "You- you've seen other War boys??"

The rider regards him dispassionately. "A few. All dead, 'cept for you and two others."

Nux steps forward eagerly, more questions at the ready, but Capable stops him with a hand.

"Where are they now?"

The rider looks back at her companions. They're just waiting now, guns holstered. She appears to think for a moment. "We have a camp nearby. We can take you there."

Nux and Capable trade glances. Whoever these riders are, they seem to be their best bet right now. They nod to each other. Capable nods to the rider. She helps Nux to his feet, and they follow her to the line of motorcycles. The rider exchanges a few muffled words with one of her companions, who does some rearranging of the gear on the back of her bike. Then they motion to Capable.

Before she climbs up, Capable leans in and whispers to Nux. "I think I know who these people are. Just keep your head down, it'll be okay."

The bandana'd rider gestures to Nux. "You and your little one can ride with me." she seems much more approachable now that they aren't a threat. Getting onto the motorcycle takes some doing, with one hand occupied. The rider casts a glance back. "New baby?"

"Last night."

"Hm. Hate to ask what you were doing out here in your condition."

Nux hesitates before answering. "...Looking for my lancer. He didn't come back from a patrol run."

The rider just nods as though she understands perfectly. Around them, the other motorcycles are snarling back to life. She dons her goggles. "Better hang on."

Nux barely has time to do as he's told before she revs the engine and takes off, falling into formation with her companions. Down the side of the dune and away; the wreck falls into the distance. He holds his pup close. Maybe they will make it home, after all.

oOo


	6. Chapter 6

'Nearby', as it turns out, is a two-hour drive. Nux spends most of it fighting to stay awake. The endorphin high is wearing off, and he has never felt so utterly exhausted in all his life. All he wants to do is curl up and shut out the world for a few hours - maybe a few days. But he can't fall asleep or he'll drop the pup, so it becomes a battle with his own head just to stay conscious. His rider seems to take notice; when he dozes off for the third or fourth time, she stops the bike and shows him how to tie the shawl into a sling. Then they set off again, even faster now to catch up with the others, and Nux is soon fast asleep with the pup secure across his back.

\--

"War boy. Wake up, we're here. War boy?"

Waking up ready to fight is a reflex all War boys have. You learn it early; in the often-rough culture of the Citadel, it's a survival skill. Here, not so much. His hands are already balled into fists when he comes to, and the rider that woke him flinches back. But he quickly lets his guard down when he realizes who he's with. Capable is standing nearby, talking to a tall, long-haired rider; she runs to him when she sees he's awake.

"Nux, I was right!" she says breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"That's nice. About what?"

"The riders. They're the Vuvalini- Furiosa's clan!"

"...Oh." that doesn't mean much to a War boy, but he feels he ought to be impressed. He looks around, taking stock of their surroundings for the first time. It's a camp, but only in the broadest sense: the riders seem to have set up wherever they happen to be, most using their motorcycles as a base. He understands that; War boys are pretty much the same with their cars. Some crude tents - just three or four poles with canvas draped around them -  have been set up as well, for shade. The comings and goings of the place flow around him like he's not even there.

"...there in a day or two, since they're headed back that way!"

Nux blinks dazedly at Capable. "What?"

"She said we're heading South tomorrow, so we can take you back to your Citadel." the long-haired rider drawls. She pulls her hair loosely back with a length of twine and turns away to her bike. Capable flashes him a smile.

"We're going home, War boy.'

Nux smiles too, but with some reluctance. "Yeah. Yeah, we are." that's one problem solved, at least. He scans the camp. Didn't the other rider say they had found two War boys alive? Capable puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Nux..." she warns him, gently. They're both thinking it, but don't want to say it...if Slit isn't here, there's not much hope of finding him. Nux doesn't look at her. He reaches out to a passing rider, an older woman carrying an impressively large gun across her back. She looks at him askance.

"You're looking for the War boys?" her voice is as dusty and dry as the landscape. Nux nods. She points wordlessly to the cluster of tents and keeps walking. Well, it's now or never...Nux glances back at Capable and heads for the nearest tent. His heart is pounding.

"Slit? Slit, it's me-" he pulls back a flap of canvas-

-and the face inside is not a familiar one. A stocky War boy with bandages across most of his face peers up at him. "The hell?"

"...You're not Slit." says Nux, rather belatedly.

"No." the War boy grunts. He turns over, revealing more bandages on his back and shoulder. "Piss off."

"Have- have you seen him?"

"Who?" the War boy's one good eye squints sulkily back at him.

"Slit. He's...he's a lancer, 'bout this tall, got stitches on the side of his face and-"

"Nuts?"

Nux whirls around. And Glory be, there he is: bruised and bandaged and just barely standing upright, but very much alive. Slit squints in the sunlight. "The hell are you doin' here, Nuts?" he croaks. Nux doesn't say a word. He surges across to where his lancer is leaned against the tent, grabs his face with both hands, and kisses him, hard. Not exactly a War boy thing to do, but he couldn't care less. It's Slit. He's real. He's alive. He breaks off the kiss abruptly; a noise escapes him, halfway between a laugh and a sob. Slit cuffs him on the back of the head but doesn't try to move him. "I asked you a question, numbnuts." he growls, with maybe a little more gentleness than usual. "What're you doing out here?"

"Looking for you. You didn't come back with the patrol." Nux is grinning so hard, his face might just split in two. He brings their foreheads together and is only a little surprised when Slit doesn't protest.

"So, what, you jus' stole a car and came after me by yourself?"

"With some help. From Capable."

Slit laughs - that's about as rare as a smile from the Coma-Doof Warrior - and cuffs him again. "Idiot. Told you that pup was makin' you soft."

"Maybe."

A long, crowded pause follows. Nux can almost hear Slit's dawning realization.

"...Nuts." the lancer says slowly. "Where's th' pup?"

Without saying a word Nux steps back, turns around. The silence is deafening. "His name's Voss." he offers, by way of explanation.

"When-?"

"Last night."

Another long pause. "Nuts, you moron." says Slit, but there's no heat in the words. The weight is lifted out of the sling; Nux looks over his shoulder. Slit is holding the pup carefully - albeit awkwardly - with his un-bandaged arm and looking him up and down. "Voss..." he repeats the name as though tasting it. "'S a good name." Voss wakes up then and, finding himself in unfamiliar arms, immediately starts to cry. Slit stiffens, glances from Voss to Nux and back. "What are you- stop that. Shh." he rocks the pup back and forth a few times, looking pretty ridiculous himself, before settling into a gentler rhythm. "Shhh." he shushes again, quieter this time, and murmurs something that Nux can't quite hear. Voss' cries dwindle into whimpers, then silence. The smallest ghost of a smile crosses the lancer's face. Then he catches Nux looking at him, and he's his gruff self again. He clears his throat awkwardly. "He's a good pup." that's high praise, coming from Slit. Nux smirks and gestures to his empty sling; Slit hobbles around to put Voss back.

Once the pup is secure and calm again, the lancer pauses. Nux looks back at him. He's just staring, massaging his injured arm. "Slit...?"

"...You shouldn't of had to do that alone."

"I wasn't. Capable helped."

Slit shrugs one shoulder. He's always been a little dismissive of Nux's friendship with her. "I mean... **alone**. Not in the pup den. Without me."

"I know." Nux turns to face his lancer. He looks even more menacing than usual in the harsh sun. "But if you hadn't gone an' gotten yourself killed, I wouldn't of had to." he teases. Slit cuffs him on the ear.

"If you hadn't gone looking for me, you wouldn't of had to."

"Schlanger."

"Moron."

Driver and lancer look each other up and down. Slit doesn't like silence; he goes to speak, hesitates, then pulls Nux into a kiss which says everything he can't. Nux leans into it; even through his exhaustion, he thinks he might explode from sheer relief. Slit is here, and he's okay, and they're safe. All three of them.

Footsteps approach; Slit breaks off the kiss. It's Capable, walking with the long-haired rider. Her gaze lands on Slit, half-leaning on the tent but with one protective arm around his driver, and she smiles. Nux smiles back. They know what it means.

\--

Nux, Slit, Capable, and the pup spend their day doing nothing. The Vuvalini are kind, but they're proud, and these three are strangers - strangers from the Citadel, no less. If they're suspicious, they have every right to be. And besides, in the heat of midday, there's not much that's worth doing anyway. So the four hunker down in one of the makeshift tents and wait for nightfall.

Nux and Slit stick to each other like glue. That's always been their way: even for drivers and lancers, who are supposed to have a strong bond, they're nigh inseperable. And damned if Nux is going to let Slit out of his sight now. They sit together in the tent, leaning back-to-back; Slit holds Voss to his chest with his good arm and watches him sleep. Capable dozes nearby.

"...Hey Nuts."

Nux has to drag himself back to full consciousness. "Wha'?"

"Why'd you come looking for me, anyway?"

A silence fills the tent. There's not much room for emotions in a War boy's mind, so there are a lot of things they can't articulate. They know what they mean to each other, more or less, but they've never said it. Not in so many words. So it takes Nux a minute or two to come up with an answer.

"Well...you promised you'd be there when I had the pup. I couldn't let you just run off someplace." he hesitates, coasting his hands over what remains of his belly. "And...y'know. Driver an' lancer. I'm not gonna work in the repair bays for th' rest of my life. An' I knew you weren't gonna be in Valhalla. I mean, not yet." Slit takes a breath to speak, but he barrels on. " **And** you crashed our rig. Wasn't gonna let you get away with that, either."

Slit chuckles, a low, raspy growl. But there's something half-hearted about about it. "Missed you too, Nuts."

Both War boys allow themselves a small smile. Then silence descends again, and nothing more is said for quite a while.

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the story so far, please leave a comment- I'd love to hear from you!


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